Ch. 47
The urgency to help Wake gnaws at me like an itch I can’t scratch. It’s there in every waking thought, every decision I make.
I know that if I’m going to figure out how to get Wake out of here—how to save him from whatever fate Lily St. Cloud and the rest of Enigma have in store—I need to understand what makes him different. What allows him to transform from a creature of the sea into a man who stands before me, powerful and terrifyingly human.
The lab’s repository is cold, and the sterile white light above me feels harsher the longer I sit under it. The stacks of data are overwhelming, the constant whir of computers around me a steady, maddening hum.
I’ve spent hours holed up here pouring over everything Enigma has collected on the siren genome. Despite all the time they’ve had Marina in captivity, the data is frustratingly thin.
Marina’s physiology has been studied for decades, yet they haven’t uncovered much beyond what I already know from my own encounters with Wake. Their blood has healing properties, they’re stronger and faster than humans, and they live longer. But none of that explains the transformation, the one thing that truly sets us apart.
I rub my temples, feeling a headache creeping in. Marina has all the same reproductive organs as I do, that much I can confirm. And from firsthand experience, I know Wake’s is also compatible.
I dig deeper, flipping through academic journals, cross-referencing data until my eyes blur from exhaustion. But one thing becomes glaringly clear: no one at Enigma has figured out that sirens can transform.
Interesting.
I lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling as I let that thought marinate. Perhaps they’ve never exposed Marina to air long enough for her to change. Without the right conditions, the transformation might never occur. But then I remember Wake—how he’s been out of the water before without immediately transforming. That implies that the change is intentional, something he controls.
I slam the journal in front of me shut in frustration. I feel foolish sitting here, questioning things about Marina when I could actually get up and go speak to her. There’s so much more I need to know, and sitting here guessing isn’t going to get me anywhere.
The decision is made in an instant. I push back from the desk, the chair scraping against the tile floor as I rise. I’ll go to Marina, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll find some answers.
It’s late, and the lab is eerily quiet as I slip through the corridors. My footsteps echo in the silence, the only sound in the vast facility. The guards are fewer at this hour, but I still have to be careful. I can’t afford to be caught snooping around where I shouldn’t be. Not now.
The closer I get to Marina’s chamber, the more my nerves fray. My heart pounds in my chest, and I have to remind myself to breathe, to keep calm. But when I reach the chamber, something stops me in my tracks.
The door is ajar.
My breath catches in my throat, and I pause, listening intently. There’s a soft murmur of voices coming from inside. I edge closer, peering through the gap in the door, and what I see makes my stomach drop.
Peter is there, standing beside the stasis chamber that holds Marina. He’s leaning over her, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair away from her face. His expression is tender, filled with a kind of warmth I’ve never seen in him before. Marina, in turn, gazes up at him, her eyes wide and full of emotion.
“Peter,” she whispers, her voice fragile, like it might shatter at any moment. “My Peter.”
“I’m here,” he replies, his voice soothing, comforting. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I take a step back, my mind reeling. Peter and Marina…in love? It doesn’t make any sense, and yet, the way they’re looking at each other leaves no room for doubt. How long has this been going on? How could I not have known?
I don’t know how long I stand there, frozen in place, before Peter finally notices me. His eyes widen in shock, and he quickly steps away from Marina, as if he’s been caught doing something forbidden.
“Phoebe,” he says, his voice tight with panic. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. But I can’t stop the tremor of betrayal that creeps in. “How long has this been going on?”
Peter glances back at Marina, who’s now looking at me with a mix of curiosity and fear. “It’s not what it looks like,” he starts to say, but I cut him off.
“Save it, Peter. I’m the last person here to judge you. But I do need your help.”
He blinks in surprise, clearly not expecting that. “My help?”
“Yes,” I say, stepping into the room. “I need you to help me figure out how to save them. Both of them.”
Marina shifts in her chamber, her gaze locking onto mine. The last time I had been this close to her, she'd been sleeping like a mythical princess, shut away, all but forgotten. There’s something in her eyes—something desperate.
“You look just like her,” she says suddenly, her voice trembling.
I frown, confused. “Like who?”
But Marina doesn’t answer. Instead, she starts to tremble violently, her body convulsing as if she’s being torn apart from the inside. Panic surges through me, and I rush to the control panel, trying to figure out what’s happening.
“Peter, what’s going on?” I shout, my hands fumbling with the controls.
“She’s going into shock!” Peter exclaims, his voice tight with fear. He moves quickly, activating a sequence on the panel that I don’t recognize. “We need to put her back under, now!”
The chamber begins to fill with a thick, misty substance, and Marina’s movements start to slow. Her eyes flutter closed, her body going limp as she slips into unconsciousness.
I stand there, my heart pounding in my chest, watching as the woman who might hold the key to everything is put back into a coma. The room is deathly silent, save for the hum of the machines keeping Marina alive.
Peter finally turns to me, his expression haunted. “What the hell are you doing, Phoebe?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I’m trying to help them,” I say, though the words feel hollow in my mouth. “I’m trying to save them from whatever Enigma has planned.”
Peter shakes his head, a look of sorrow in his eyes. “And what if you can’t?” he asks. “What if there’s nothing we can do?”
I don’t have an answer for that. All I know is that I have to try. Because if I don’t, Wake and Marina are as good as dead.
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